Hey Stupid

Popcorn and potato chips are my drug of choice, or at least they were.

I've been known to dive into a 'Costco' sized bag of Ruffles and only come up for air when a thin layer of crumbs line the bottom. Likewise, I have on many occasion made a triple batch of oil-popped corn with butter and salt, removed a bowl for the family, and then devourer the remainder. If that weren't enough, nine times out of ten, I'd return to polish off the 'family' portion. To say I have a problem popcorn and chips is to say the Titanic sprung a little leak.

Last night we had popcorn. Two of the granddaughters were over and we made a bag of microwave popcorn for their movie. They ate what they wanted. I had small portion. That was that; no second or third bag.

Today was my daughter Lindsey's thirtieth birthday party. In addition to grilled burgers and dogs there was a table of side dishes, which included a giant stainless steel bowl full of Ruffles potato chips. I like Ruffles! I had a small portion with my half-of-a-burger, and then throughout the afternoon I had a chip here and a chip there - one chip at a time. I probably ate more chips than I needed, but I definitely at less chips than I would have pre-surgery.

I'm not running the victory flag up the pole. Obviously I still have issues with certain foods or I would have turned my back completely. What I do have is a powerful tool. It's hard to over-eat when your stomach rebels. My stomach never used to give me notice until it was too late, much too late. Now my stomach lets me know right away; hey stupid, you're full! It's nice to know that even if I'm not smart enough to stop eating, my stomach is.

Hey stupid; it works for me.

Seventy pounds and counting.  

Zip, Nada, Zilch

Zip, nada, zilch; that's the sum total of today's workout. It was a good run, but today I needed a break. I really used up my reserves in the pool yesterday.

I think I'll hang low, watch a little US Open tennis, and try it again tomorrow.

That's my plan.

As Big As It Gets

 I had a great swim tonight. For the first time since getting back in the pool I went the distance; one hundred lengths, non stop. Oh course I had to crawl out of the pool and into the shower, but I got it done. Now after dinner of grilled chicken breast - not a big fan of poultry, but a good lean protein - I'm parked in front of the TV watching US Open tennis.

Much to Michelle's dismay, I like to watch sports. I'm not a big fan of baseball or football, and I'd rather watch reruns of yesterday's weather than watch basketball. On the other hand, I've been know to get up at three AM to watch Tour de France coverage. My world goes on hold for the Olympics, and I like golf and tennis, especially the majors. For the next two weeks its the US Open at Flushing Meadows and that's about as big as it gets. Which serves to explain, why I'm going to stop right here. 

Cupcakes for Her Birthday

Normally this blog is all about me. Why wouldn't be? It's got my name in the title. However, today we take a break from weight loss, workouts and rants to focus on something truly important, Lindsey Marie's birthday.

My little girl is thirty, which make me - never mind, this is about Lindsey. Today is Lindsey's birthday. When I talked to Lindsey earlier she told me she had been to the DMV, the medical lab and grocery store. If that wasn't fun enough, her three little girls were bugging her to let them make cupcakes for her birthday. Lindsey's a smart girl, she wasn't falling for it. My granddaughters get to wait until their dad comes home so he can clean-up the mess.

It all got me thinking back to those crazy hectic times, when the girls were young and there weren't enough hours in a day. It seems so long ago. I hope Lindsey has an awesome birthday.

It goes by so fast.



 

Hiding in Baggy Clothes

After a big weekend, and a big Monday workout, I'm ready for big rest.

I had a great swim tonight. My pace was good and I went further than I have in a long time, years actually. I wish I could say it was superior fitness and conditioning, but it's the same old body struggling to get back in form. The big difference; a proper swim suit; a suit designed for swimming laps and not one designed for surfing and hanging out at the beach. I've been wearing board shorts because a man who weights more than three hundred pounds shouldn't wear anything else; it's kind of a public service. However, I don't weigh three hundred pounds any more and I was literally swimming out of my trunks. Every turn was: flip, kick and grab the shorts. There's only so much a tattered waistband and draw string can do.

Today was the day. Today a stepped up to real swim trunks and the difference was amazing. In the first place, it's much easier to swim with both arms. Using one arm to keep the trunks up really slows you down. Second, you can swim a lot faster when your not dragging the equivalent of a deployed parachute behind you. Finally, it feels good to look the part.

I know that must sound really vain, but after years of hiding in baggy clothes, the back row, and any other way I could think of to avoid being seen, it feels good. I'm not delusional. I know who I am, and I still have a long way to go. I'm just saying it's nice to walk out on the pool deck without feeling totally self conscience.

One Happy Hiker

one

According to GPS, today's hike up to Wallace Falls was 5.34 miles with a total ascent of 1145 feet. We started with a couple drops of rain and finished in the sun. This happy hiker is tired. I'm going to leave you with a few photos.

Somewhere Between 'Too Hot' and 'Raining'

Tomorrow Michelle and I are going to hike up to Wallace Falls. It's not exactly deep into the wilderness, but it it is off the beaten path. It's also up hill, so the exercise aspect abounds. As long as the weather falls somewhere between 'too hot' and 'raining', it should be an awesome day.

I can't remember the last time I gave a weight report, so here it is. I'm down 67.5 pounds and just about ready for a second round of 'temporay clothes'.

Tonight my body is reminding me that I recently had weight loss surgery. Michelle brought home teriyaki left over from her lunch. Teriyaki is one of my favorites. We heated the leftovers for dinner and I thoroughly enjoyed the treat. I really didn't think I ate that much, but my stomach is telling a different story. I am quite uncomfortable and rightly so. I broke the cardinal rule; eat slowly and allow your brain to register fullness. By the time your stomach says I'm full, it's too late. Right now I do not have a happy stomach.

I am still amazed by how little is too much. A small serving is satisfying; keep pushing, and the result is misery. I'm like Pavlov's dog. I can be trained, it just takes longer.

In truth, I've had amazingly few complications. I am very greatful for the great care I recevied and my quick recovery. Any doubts? The proof will be headed up the trail in the morning.

It's a Beautiful Thing

The purpose of a good workout mix is to get your blood pumping. I listen to an eclectic mix that winds a crooked path from Supertramp, through Duran Duran, up to Moby, over to Kenny Wayne Shepard, by Kelly Clarkson and ends up at Hogni. Along the way we'll pass Pearl Jam, Big Head Todd, Frampton, Clapton and Stevie Ray. This isn't an inclusive list, I have hundreds of selections in my itunes library. I change the mix often and set my ipod to shuffle. I like variety and surprise; at least when it comes to music.

I can ride a stationary bike for an hour or more with tunes, and about six minutes without. I would never ride on the road with ear buds; it would be too dangerous. Being able to rock and ride is the number one reason riding inside is tolerable. A close second is avoiding wind and rain and a distant third is not getting run over by cars. I've never been hit by a car, but I have crashed on the street. It's not a lot of fun. It involves torn tights, lots of blood and a nasty infection. I'd show you the scar but it's on my right cheek; yes, that cheek. Years ago I fell off a stationary bike too. It wasn't the headphones fault and there was no blood, but my ego took a beating. I went to dismount the stationary beast and my foot caught in the toe-clip; down I went.

With the record between the street bike and the stationary bike tied at one each, I'm going to give the safety edge to indoors. No blood; it really wasn't much of a contest.

Other than some good tunes, tonight was pretty uneventful. A hard swim, a sweaty ride; no crash, no foul. A quick shower, home for dinner and here I am.

The best part of this journey, and there are many 'best' parts to this journey, is feeling alive. It's a beautiful thing.



  

A Very Good Thing

I would like to apologize for not writing yesterday. If I am to continue with a daily blog, I need a daily computer. I am loath to change computers, which means transferring files, reloading programs and especially, dealing with all my auto-saved passwords. It hardly seems worth the effort if I can suffer just one more crash – thank you PC. Anyway, my frustration bested me, and I decided my (formerly) trusty laptop could have this round. It was probably a wise decision as I was reaching the point where I was going to convert my laptop into a projectile. That said, today is a new day and me and my aging PC are off to a fresh start.

On the subject of pain, I maintain there is good pain and bad pain. My wife disagrees. According to Michelle all pain is bad pain. Not so; a broken heart, bad pain. Run three miles and get sore, good pain. Fall out down stairs and throw out your back, bad pain. Run a marathon and lose a toe nail; this one is a little tricky. You’d think it would be good pain because of completing a marathon and achieving a life goal, but no, it’s bad pain. I hope you get the picture. I don’t mind getting sore or hurting a little for the cause. In my younger years I spent most evenings with ice bags on my knees.

Unfortunately I ran and rode long past the weight where my body could tolerate the load, causing some serious repercussions. I have chronic knee and back problems, which are just now easing do to weight loss. As my journey continues, and the weight comes off, I am regaining the joy of physical exertion. I find exercise cathartic. Nothing clears my mind like pushing my body.

Michelle thinks I’m crazy, and she might be right because she usually is, but I think a little pain in life is good. Nothing makes me feel alive like a bracing cold. Nothing gets my blood pumping like standing at the top of a steep run with my tips hanging out in space. Sailing on the ocean makes me feel small and alive at the same time. Even a good relationship runs the course of joy and pain in the process of building and strengthening. So it is with the body.

As I sit here and write this I can feel muscles I haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.


  

A Good Night's Rest

I'm back.

Wow, what a weekend. Here are a few highlights:

• Bike riding along the Bellingham waterfront with Michelle and granddaughter, MakennaLinn
• Sitting down to a delicious healthy dinner with family
• Getting up and jogging this morning
• The farmer's market and art show at the Everett waterfront this afternoon

Not only do I have the desire to get out and do things, I have the energy, or I did have. This cowboy is tired and in need of a good night's rest before tackling the new week.  

A Life Well Lived

 

Today it’s been eight weeks since weight loss surgery.

That means:

A)    I’m off the last of any dietary restrictions

B)    I’m down 64.4 pounds

C)    I’m healed, real and ready for life

I’m not here to preach weight loss surgery, really. My message is change. Life is short. Any decision put off until tomorrow gives one less day to enjoy a new life.

I know one day I will wake up and it will be just another day. That’s how life works. I’ve spent enough time in the valleys to know time on the mountain tops is precious. Today I feel like I could reach out and touch the clouds.  

When I started this blog I planned on chronicling my surgery and weight loss experience for a year and then continue with my new life. Maybe I’m impatient. Maybe I’m getting bored with weight reports. Maybe I want to get on with life. I will still report significant milestones and my weight loss progress, that’s all part of the person I’ve become. I really want to focus more on how my life has changed and less on why. 

Suddenly I want to get out and do things. I want to feel charged like stepping outside on a cold clear morning. I want to feel the rush of dropping into a steep run on skis. I want to feel the apprehension that comes when sailing off-shore and you feel so small. 

I’m ready to be cold, wet and tired. Most won’t understand that last statement, but those who do, will understand perfectly. Life isn’t perfect. Life is messy. My goal is that when I lay my head down for the final time I can close my eyes in the peace of knowing, mine was a life well lived.

Rain, Rain

You know you're forth generation Washington when you're glad to see the rain. Honestly, it's more about a a break from the warm weather and less about the rain; whatever it takes for a little relief. For me the perfect day is broken clouds and seventy-two degrees. A few clouds keep the direct sun at bay and seventy-two is the perfect outdoor temperature - warm enough to do whatever you want in short sleeves, but not so warm as to sweat through your shorts.

Tomorrow is a big day in my weight loss journey, but more about that, tomorrow.

The Path Taken

I’m down sixty-three pounds and still losing. I smile more. I even talk to strangers; which is not my nature. I wake up happy and lay my head down at night content with life. Life is good, which l begs the question, why?

When Michelle and I sat down and discussed Weight Loss Surgery (WLS) her primary concern was my health. I had problems with my knees and my back. I had hypertension. I was borderline diabetic, and although I didn’t know it and wouldn’t have admitted it if did, I was depressed.

I used to joke that I was the fittest fat man you’d ever meet. It was marginally true. Because of my previous fitness level, I was able to do things most people my size couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t try. I was able to backpack, ski, cycle, even complete a triathlon because of core strength and muscle memory. I was a weekend warrior wrapped in a fat suit. One day I woke up and had to face the fact that I was no longer the fittest fat man, I was just fat. It was a hard day.

I wish I could say I didn’t care how people looked at me. It’s humiliating to ask for a seat belt extension when settling in for a flight. Buying new clothes: why bother, nothing here’s going to make me look good. Talk about teaching skiing, climbing mountains, running a marathon, completing a triathlon and you see the doubt in their eyes, really, you? At some point you quit sharing, and then the long fade to isolation. 

It’s been almost two months since WLS and I feel like I’m just getting started on this journey. In so many ways I feel like I have a new lease on life, but why? It’s not an easy question to answer.  It’s more than just weight, but I can’t wrap my head around it, not yet. Like any good journey the path taken is as important as the destination.

For the first time in a long time I am excited about being on the path.

Try Again Tomorrow

My wife loves me enough to be brutally honest with me.

Every time I complete a post, Michelle previews and comments upon my work. I sometimes, but not always take her advice; but I always listen. Tonight she read through my work and after a few moments told me the truth. Tonight's work was flat. It was too much like a journal entry and not inspired.

Thanks to Michelle's honesty and the power of delete you are spared this evening. I'm not being facetious or trite. I am quite serious and appreciative.

We'll try it again tomorrow.  

That's Plenty

Friday night is pizza night.

Tonight we ordered a medium pie; half veggie and half meat. Michelle, Jess, Jason and Layla Jane all shared in the meal. I had half a piece. The leftovers went in the refrigerator.  

Later Michelle remarked that we had about the same amount of leftovers as before my surgery. The difference; we used to order two large pizza, not one medium. The variable in this equation: me.  

It's hard to believe, or even admit, that I could could and would eat in excess of a large pizza by my self. I never used to think twice about it. It was just dinner.

I'm thankful that tonight's dinner was a small lettuce salad and almost all of half a slice.

That's all.

That's plenty.

Not Afraid of Change

This afternoon Michelle was able to sign a letter of acceptance for a new job offer, and then immediately give two weeks notice on a job she deeply disliked. For two years she has been the outsider, the new one. Every suggestion followed by, we've always done it this way so we're not going to change. Michelle is progressive and not afraid of change for the sake of improvement. To languish in a deeply dysfunctional company that's stuck in a thirty year time warp has been extremely difficult. In two weeks she starts a new job with the promise that her skills will be utilized and appreciated.

I am so happy for her.

Some things are bigger than a few pounds.

No Nachos

It's been a long day; short post.

I was able to spend some quality time with a close friend; a brother. Greg flew up from Vancouver WA to Paine Field in a Piper Arrow; in an hour and five minutes! Where was that speed when we were on our way to Lake Tahoe?

We sat in Starbucks for a couple of hours discussing his new business plan and then went to dinner at Applebee's. It was our first face to face time since my surgery. Some people have drinking buddies; Greg and I are eating buddies from way back. We have eaten our way through some pretty epic meals. Tonight was salads. No appetisers. No Nachos. No mountain of onion rings. No loss. Just a good time with a good friend.

I used to live food first. Every occasion was, food first. It doesn't have to be.

Life is Good

Today at the pool I had an experience that will keep me motivated for quite awhile.

I hate interval training. I'm one big mass of slow twitch fiber. I couldn't carry a sprint fiber in my pocket. In the pool I set a pace just inside my comfort zone, then at a predetermined point, I kick up the pace. Tonight it was 30/50; thirty lengths brisk, and then pull as hard as I can the final twenty. If I do it right, I pull into the wall gasping for air and barely able to stand. You wont find it in any of the training books, but it works for me.

Tonight another swimmer was in the lane next to me. As often happens, he would push off the wall at my turn and 'race' me down the pool. He would hang out until I came back around and then sprint down the pool ahead of me, where he would rest up for another go. Tonight the sun and the moon and the stars all lined up. About the forth or fifth time he was waiting for me, it was go time. I kicked off the wall for length thirty-one. The combination of my increase pace and his accumulated fatigue had me turning at the far end well ahead of him. Game over; he was done.

The experience was satisfying, but nothing like what came next. After my swim I was gathering my gear when my swim buddy walked up to me. He made a comment about my performance in the pool, and then asked if I could give him some pointers. Two weeks ago when I started swimming again, I could barely muster twelve lengths, tonight I'm coaching a twenty-something on proper swim technique.

"Turn your head to breath. When you lift your head your back arches and your momentium is down, not forward. And, "Don't coast into your stroke, pull into it."

As I turned for the shower, my new friend jumped back into the pool.

In six weeks my life has changed in ways I never dreamed possible. Next time I'm in Bellingham, I'm going to get my bike out of storage. I can't run yet without risking injury, but I can swim and ride. I have an active family. My sister and several cousins are active triathletes. Next summer I will join them; if not to race, to participate in life and good health.

Life is good.

Fair Warning

Fair warning: I’m going to jump on a soapbox for a moment.

I’m getting sick and tired of fat people (I AM one) being the target of everyone from late-night comedians to medical statisticians.  

I’m not going to argue that obesity, and all its attendant illnesses and conditions aren’t expensive to treat. I’m going to argue that the medical industry would rather treat obesity than cure obesity. For twenty years I heard,

“You’re putting on too much weight, here’s a pamphlet on dieting.”

“You should get out and walk more.”

“It’s easy; you just need to eat less.”

“I’d like to send you to a dietician so you can make good food choices.”

“You need to find the balance between intake and exercise.”

 

And my all-time favorite physician comment, from a cardiologist treating an infection in the lining around my heart,   

 

“If it tastes good, spit it out.”

He literally said that, with a straight face, as medical advice.

 

A doctor recently told me he couldn’t support Weight Loss Surgery because statistically as many as twenty to twenty-five percent of patients return to pre-surgery weight within five years. Really! How many cancers and other diseases can boast a five year, seventy-five percent cure rates with a single surgical procedure?   

If you’re reading this and you can’t relate to people of size, I’d like to stress that the obese are not weak. We are not somehow less viable as a human being. There’s no arguing that obesity and obesity related conditions burden the medical system. However, the medical system has failed us. If AIDs, breast cancer, or erectile dysfunction were treated, medically, like obesity, there would be riots in the street.  There is growing evidence that obesity is a genetic, medical condition and yet medical professionals point at us and say it’s your fault; we can’t fix your poor life style.

 

News flash: if it was as easy as eating less and exercising more there would be no fat people. I wouldn’t be fat. Before my weight loss surgery I dieted. I exercised. I went through depressed times where I didn’t want to get off the couch. I struggled for my entire adult life with weight gain and no one ever gave me a single tangible piece of medical advice that worked; not in the long run. Eat less; really, just eat less. I wish it were that easy. Exercise more; works until my knees gave out and I could hardly walk. Make smart food decisions; I’ll take your nutrition quiz. Use portion control; easier said than done when everything you’re served is super-sized.

If you don’t have weight issues, you have other issues. None of us is perfect. No one should be judged or valued based upon on size or how we look. If you struggle with your weight, you have my support. I have walked in your shoes and I know your pain and frustration.

The reason I am blogging my experience is two-fold. First, it’s cathartic. I need to look at myself and not blink. Second, if my experience can help even one person, then what I have lived and experienced was worth it – the good, the bad - all of it.       

A Lucky Guy

I don't miss many days/posts, but yesterday was a bad computer day. It started when I spent several hours editing photos from our recent Lake Tahoe/family reunion trip. To make a long sad story shorter, I ended up loosing my work and restoring several months worth of junk out of my recycle bin. In the end I slammed the cover of my laptop shut and resisted an extreme compulsion to drop-kick my computer out the window.

By the time I realized I hadn't posted for the day it was late and I had no energy left to tackle the evil machine. That's unfortunate, it was a big day.

I hit a huge psychological milestone yesterday. I'm down exactly 59 pounds. More important, I'm no longer in the two-fifties. I haven't been less than two-fifty since sometime in 1993. I'm under no illusion; I know I'm still a big guy, but I'm moving in the right direction.

Michelle has told me several times she isn't sure if the surgery was on my stomach or my mind. My outlook on food, what I will and wont eat, has changed so much. Just yesterday she pointed out one of my favorite old snacks. I looked at the label and told her no thanks. It was just a bunch of empty calories; nothing worth eating. Her response: who are you?

I'll have good days and bad days. It's called life. These days I'm riding high. I have hope. The future looks good from where I'm standing.

I'm a lucky guy.

A Good Program

I got off work early today; staff lunch, a few words from the boss and have a nice weekend. You don't have to tell me twice, I remember where I parked the car.

Michelle, never one to waste an opportunity, called me a short list for the store and a request for dinner: fried chicken, biscuits and gravy. One of the benefits of weight loss surgery is the ability to smile and order fried chicken, biscuits and gravy; cause I ain't gonna eat it.

First of all, I'm not a fan of all things poultry. I get my annual quota at Thanksgiving and I'm good for the year. I have nothing against biscuits. With the proper ratio of biscuit, butter and raspberry jam is down right delicious. Cover them in gravy and I suddenly loose interest.

It's amazing I ever got fat. I'm about the pickiest eater you'll meet. The list of foods I don't like and or won't eat is long a varied. The foods I love and crave all have one thing in common; not the healthiest group you'll meet. Burgers, pizza, chips and dip all part of my personal food group, and yet none make it to the weight loss hall of fame.

Now that I'm running on about fifteen percent stomach it's a lot easier to push back and say no. Even if I do find something I like, I'm doubled over in pain before I can do any real damage.

Think beef jerky.

It's a good program, nothing else has worked has worked for me.

Killer Protein

There has been so much good, which has come from weight lose surgery. Not the least of which, weight loss. However, this afternoon I discovered a dark side.

I'm always on the lookout for a high-protein snack. There is only so much yogurt a man can consume. This afternoon I decided to try beef jerky. It's lean, high in protein, and quite tasty for a carnivore like myself. Unfortunately, an ounce and a half of beef jerky landed in my stomach like a sixteen ounce T-bone steak. The landing was bad enough, but for the next two hours my stomach felt like it was going to explode.

Variety isn't always good; back to yogurt.


In the interest of full disclosure, Michelle's comment was, "You sound like a pittiful old man."